On the High Lonely Hill
by Cornerofmadness
Summary: Dawn knows this isn't Spike's usual sort of thing but hopes he'll enjoy it anyhow.


**Title**\- On the High Lonely Hill

**Disclaimer**\- Whedon owns all

**Rating**\- teen

**Characters/Pairing**\- Spike/Dawn

**Timeline** \- post series

**Word Count**\- 2,256

**Warnings**\- none

**Summary**\- Dawn knows this isn't Spike's usual sort of thing but hopes he'll enjoy it anyhow.

**Author's Note**\- written for katleept for the Sunnydalescribe yule challenge. It's a follow up to my story Stepchild of Belief which is an AR where Buffy and company have joined with Angel's team, rounding up new Slayers and fighting evil across the world. At the moment they're in Southeast Ohio.

XXX

The sun had barely been down for an hour by the time they arrived at the Ridges. Dawn didn't think a building could give her the willies, but she was wrong. The Ridges sprawled for what seemed like forever. She hadn't expected it to be so large. The building's wings seemed to press on past the horizon. The front door was a three tiered piece of art with tons of gingerbreading and every window was covered in iron bars designed to look like scrollwork. Beautiful but oppressive at the same time, Dawn couldn't imagine living within those walls.

Spike lit up, leaning against the rental car, and she glared at him. He rolled his eyes but pinched off the burning end of his fresh cigarette and tucked away the unburned part. He eyed the building dubiously. "Where'd you bring me, bit?"

"There were only two places I wanted to go while we're here in Athens." Dawn knew there was no way Giles and Angel were going to pass up on some of the talks at Ohio University since they were already in the area forty miles south in Point Pleasant West Virginia. Their team and Angel's had joined up to fight a Tulpa that had been killing at the Mothman Festival. She wasn't sure what to think about this part of Appalachia, but it was certainly different than southern California. "I wanted to go hiking in the Hocking Hills so I can see Ash Cave and Rock House."

Spike sniffed. "Have I ever done anything to make you think I want to go for a stroll in the woods?"

Dawn shoved him. "I'm taking Connor for that."

Spike scowled. "Not the brat! You cannot go out into the woods with a boy like that." He stabbed a finger against her collarbone.

Dawn rolled her eyes. "You know it's not like that with us. He's weird like me. We like talking. Besides, the parks are closed by the time you can be outside even if I was crazy enough to think you'd go hiking. Besides, Connor is made for the woods. He loves it."

"Yeah, running around in that hell dimension of his will do that to a bloke. Still I don't have to like it, li'l bit."

Dawn wasn't sure if she should be charmed by his jealousy or annoyed. She was leaning toward the latter.

"Just keep in mind that brat is the spawn of Darla and Angelus. Those two could never keep their clothes on. He probably has the morals of an alley cat." Spike gave a full body shudder.

She shook her head. "Poor Connor. And he doesn't think of me like that, trust me, Spike. Connor likes them older and with dark hair. I'm too young for him. Also, I can't take him in a fight, which from what I can tell, is a turn on for him."

He chuckled. "Told you, you can't mix Angelus with Darla and get something that isn't a rampaging pervert. I say we should put a shock collar on that boy if you plan on dragging him into the woods alone. Just light him up when he pulls something on you."

"Poor, poor Connor." Dawn giggled. "The other place I wanted to come was The Ridges, formerly the Athens Lunatic Asylum." She gestured to the building.

Spike arched his eyebrows "You brought me to a crazy house?"

"Seemed appropriate." She smirked when he narrowed his eyes at her. "Besides, look." She pointed to the sign above the door reading Kennedy Museum of Art. "Ohio University has turned part of it into an art museum."

He arched his scarred eyebrow. "So I gave you the idea I'd like art?"

Dawn shrugged. "Technically I should have brought Angel to this but I didn't want to come with him." She took Spike's hand. "I wanted to come with you."

Spike glanced between her and the asylum. "I think maybe you need to be confined here for that choice but thanks."

Dawn hip bumped him. "Please. I know you used to write poetry. I'm betting you liked art too."

He ducked his head almost shyly. "Maybe. Still, who puts an art museum in the remains of a lunatic asylum?"

"Ohio University." She grinned, squeezing his hand.

Spike allowed her to lead him into the building. Dawn expected it to feel haunted but the lobby simply seemed like she was in an old hotel or dormitory. Spike gave a donation to the docent before she could open her purse to do the same, surprising her.

"Where to first?" he asked.

Dawn pointed to the nearest door. "Might as well start there."

The first room was a display by a local artist, lots of water colors of fish and cats made of the night sky. Dawn loved them. Spike looked a little bored but he kept his peace, patiently waiting for her to move slowly from painting to painting.

She thought he lit up when they entered a room of neon art, no pun intended. Spike seemed captivated by one that looked like a red phoenix. He stood in front of it for five full minutes, studying the bird's lines and curves.

"Do you want to study art?" he asked suddenly, taking her by surprise.

Dawn slipped an arm around his waist. "I want to say yes but who knows if I'll even get to go to college any more than Buffy did. You know I'm going to end up a Watcher."

"They go to school though," he said, his eyes still on the glowing art.

"I know. I'd like to study art but wouldn't business be more practical?" she asked, hesitation in every word.

Spike gestured to the neon phoenix. "If I know anything, Dawnie, it's that life's too short to not follow your passions. As the Watchers rebuild, they'll find people who love business and marketing. They'll find scientists. Do what makes you happy."

Smiling broadly, she pulled him into a quick kiss. "Thanks, Spike. Actually, I'd love to learn how to work neon. This stuff is pretty cool."

"Then that's what I think you should do...only don't tell Buffy I said that. She's still pretty mad at me as it is."

Dawn sighed. That was true. Buffy had decided she didn't want to be with Spike, but she wasn't ready to have him move on to her sister. Dawn tried to be understanding of Buffy's position. It was awkward, after all, and Dawn was still pretty young. On the other hand Buffy couldn't be with one souled vampire and protest Dawn being with the other. Dawn couldn't say she'd be with Spike forever; heck she wasn't even looking for that. She just wanted to see where it led. He was fun. He protected her when she needed it and gave her freedom when she wanted it.

"You could talk art with Angel, get him to suggest you major in art because he so would." Spike grinned. "Let the Slayer pound him."

She snorted. "I swear you bring all the misery down on yourself sometimes, brat. If you behaved, the Slayer probably wouldn't whip your butt."

"Sometimes you just have to jab a stick into the hole and stir to see what happens." Spike shrugged.

Dawn could pretty well picture what would happen but it might not be a bad idea going to art school. She might have to go back to California for that so it would be a bit more affordable. Well, it wasn't as if Spike and Angel didn't both live in L.A. It was Buffy and her friends who bounced around everywhere rounding up potentials and investigating the supernatural beyond southern California. She could probably live in Angel's big old hotel and pay him rent.

Setting that aside for the moment, Dawn ushered Spike out of the neon art into the near blinding light of the lobby again. She led the way upstairs. There, she had a creepy feeling, the hair on her arms standing up, as if someone was watching. She knew there had to be ghosts in this place that had been a mental hospital for a century, during some truly horrific times in the history of caring for the mentally ill. There surely were ghosts but other than the strange feeling, nothing manifested.

Dawn put aside her disappointment to study the eerie traveling display hanging in the upstairs room. It looked like the artist had put together the idea of asylums and haunting and ran with it. Spooky houses set in dark forests, crumbling edifices, lonely country roads; she wondered how these things had ended up embedded in people's collective psyche as things to be leery of. Some of the art was layered photographs of abandoned hospitals and ghostly people. The one that stopped her was a cemetery: large mausoleum in the background and a girl on a tree swing in the foreground. The young girl, maybe thirteenish, seemed utterly at peace in her odd surroundings.

"That could have been me," she whispered.

Spike pulled her closer, kissing her temple. "It pretty much was you, pet."

"Your crypt wasn't nearly as grand." Dawn summoned up a smile.

He snorted. "It served its purpose."

Dawn wondered if that were true, and then her mind led the way to the differences between Spike and Angel, the latter of whom seemed to have money saved. Spike apparently was the grasshopper of the two, living only for the moment, and Angel was the ant. That might be something she needed to work on as far as he was concerned. Oddly she couldn't picture Spike working. Angel yes, Spike, no way.

"What's that look for?" He tapped her chin.

"Trying to picture you at work but can't."

"Thanks," he grumbled.

"Bartender, you'd make a good bartender."

"Hmmm, wonder if Lorne is hiring." Spike grinned. "I might actually like that. With my luck, Clem will find us and take root on a stool."

"So long as the words 'kitten poker' are never uttered in my presence," Dawn fired back.

"Deal."

"I wonder if they have a print of this." She jerked a thumb at the painting.

"The Slayer will blame me if you bring that home."

"No doubt."

"Now that one over there has a lot of Pre-Raphaelite in it." Spike walked over to study a painting of a young woman in flowing gown sleeping – dead? – under a barren tree with a cracked headstone suggesting a forgotten family plot nearby.

Pre-Raphaelite? Oh, so someone knew more about art than he was pretending. Somehow Dawn wasn't surprised. "Agreed. It's sad."

They perused the rest of the art. No prints were available sadly. As they left the repurposed asylum Dawn swore eyes remained on them but maybe it was just the cooler night air. It was almost autumn, and the night reminded her she wasn't in southern California at the moment. Spike crossed the parking lot but didn't stop at the rental car. He stared down over the hill, pausing for a moment before heading down the slope. Curious, Dawn followed him only to find herself in a cemetery.

Walking with Spike through a cemetery brought back a flood of memories and emotions, not all of them good but enough were to help even things out. She reached for his hand, and he curled his long fingers around hers, cool to the touch. He gave them a squeeze before letting go so he could fish out his cigarettes. Oh, she'd love to break him of that habit but that would be a battle she was likely to lose. He took her hand again once he had the lit cigarette clamped between his lips.

Dawn stared down at the very small, unimpressive stones. Her heart tugged at what she saw. "There are no names, just numbers."

Spike blew out a long stream of smoke. "It was considered embarrassing back in the day to have a family member who went barmy. No one would want to claim them. In theory the asylums kept track of what name went with what number. That was pretty commonplace for asylums back then."

She leaned against his shoulder. "How sad."

"Yeah," he muttered and she wondered if he was thinking about Drusilla. Probably, she decided but she couldn't blame him for that.

"I think I know my own next art project. I'll need to come back in the daylight," she said, knowing they had a few more days in town because of the lectures Giles wanted to catch before they headed off to their next assignment.

"Bring the brat, tell him something is going to rise from these graves and then leave him here." Spike grinned.

Dawn slapped his gut. "I'm not doing that to poor Connor. Come on, I want to give that Donkey Coffee cafe a try. It's supposed to be great."

Spike slid his arm around her, steering her back to the car. "Sure."

Dawn knew nothing about tonight was really Spike's thing so it meant a lot that he had come. "I appreciate you coming with me tonight."

"I enjoyed it," he admitted. "Just don't tell Peaches."

She laughed. "My lips are sealed."

"Hope not, pet." Spike kissed her hard, his tongue exploring her mouth, leaving behind traces of nicotine.

"Nice," she murmured.

"You are, Dawnie." He smiled as he unlocked the car door.

He really thought that, she knew. It lifted her heart. Dawn didn't know what a future with him would bring but right now, she couldn't imagine being happier.

**Author's Note**– The Athens Lunatic the Asylum, known colloquially as the Ridges is real and yes, Ohio University is using part of it as the Kennedy art museum. It's a sad, if beautiful, place on a high hill in Athens Ohio and I love going there.


End file.
